


until he shatters into oblivion

by goingtothetardis



Series: RebelCaptain Adventures [9]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Brief appearance of Krennic, Description of serious injury, F/M, Introspection, Kissing, Missing Scene, Prompt Fic, angst with feelings, the elevator scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: The thought of her pulls him from the brink of giving into the panic, and placing her face in the forefront of his mind helps him refocus, to do what he does best in the height of pressure and stress. Cassian knows that as long as he has breath in his body, he can’t lay on this grating, utterly useless.





	until he shatters into oblivion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perfectlyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/gifts).



> Perfectlyrose prompted: "The jittery, sick feeling when you can’t do anything" + Rebelcaptain
> 
> This has completely consumed me today. I haven't even started laundry yet!! :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this great big pile of angst with feelings. I rewatched the movie last night and have been utterly consumed with feels since then. Also, I know the novelization covers some of these moments, but this is my personal interpretation. I used it as a guide but ultimately took it in my own direction that felt natural. :)
> 
> A huge thank you to Jeeno2 for the beta. She took time out of her very busy Sunday to do so, and I'm super appreciative of that.

An acute, stabbing pain in his back, his chest, his hip, and fuck – _everywhere_ – pulls Cassian back to consciousness. His face presses into the cold, jagged surface of the grating, and his body, what he can feel of it, that is, feels as though it’s splayed awkwardly around him.

Cassian spits out a tangy, bitter substance, and a few seconds pass before he realizes it’s blood coating the surface of his tongue. _Not good._ For a moment, his breathing grows even more shallow than it already was as the coaxing arms of panic envelop him like a cocoon. The sensation of being frozen in time, unable to move or _act,_ momentarily overwhelms him, and nausea builds in his throat.

It’s clear his situation is dire. He’d fallen, hard and off multiple posts, if the pain all over his body is any indication, and the blood seeping from his mouth indicates internal injuries in addition to those on his torso and extremities.

Cassian hopes Jyn– Oh Force, _Jyn. The plans. Jyn!_

The thought of her pulls him from the brink of giving into the panic, and placing her face in the forefront of his mind helps him refocus, to do what he does best in the height of pressure and stress. Cassian knows that as long as he has breath in his body, he can’t lay on this grating, utterly useless.

Jyn can take care of herself, he knows it and has seen it first hand, but he has to _know_ , has to find her in order to make sure Krennic hasn’t gotten to her first.

On the grating, Cassian takes inventory of his condition. Starting with his toes, he wiggles them in his boots. It’s not much, but when they move, he breathes a sigh of relief. However, as he shifts his body to test out his legs, he cries out in pain when he moves his left hip and knee. His right leg doesn’t feel right either, but it’s nowhere near as bad as his left.

Moving to his upper body, Cassian clenches his hands into fists and reverses the motion before attempting to push himself up into a seated position. Pain pulses along his spine, and he pants in agony as the sensation of prickly splinters stab into his chest. He’s suffered broken ribs before, but this– This is worse than any of those times. It’s more than likely multiple ribs and vertebrae have cracked upon impact, and he knows there are other contusions he has no time to inspect.

If he can drag himself to standing and _somehow_ make his way to an exit, that’s all that matters.

Willing his body to move, Cassian takes a deep breath and hooks his fingers into the grating. Using what little strength he has in his legs, he pushes himself into a crawling position, gritting his teeth when his left knee and shoulder protest the movements. Inch by inch, he scoots forward to the edge of the grating, and without wasting time dwelling on the pain, reaches up with his right arm and hauls himself into standing. Something akin to standing, at least.

The pain cascades down his body, and every nerve feels like it’s on fire. The force of it bends him over, and he retches the scant remains of his last meal into the empty space below.

_Focus, Andor._

Cassian looks around and plans his exit. Given his condition, he knows it’ll be impossible for him to climb up, as Jyn likely had, so he needs to find a way down and to an turbolift that will take him all the way to the top of the tower where the transmission console will be located. For a heart-stopping moment, it looks as though there is no way off the platform, but a glint of metal catches his eye, and close inspection reveals a service ladder.

It doesn’t matter how broken he is, he has to try.

With painstaking steps, Cassian shuffles to the opposite side of the platform and carefully swings his body under the railing and onto the ladder. Every movement is agony, and he grits his teeth to keep from crying out.

As he holds on for dear life, moving his body down the ladder one rung at a time, Cassian forces his thoughts elsewhere, to keep his mind off the pain and the grim reality that he could and probably will die here, just like K2.

It’s no surprise when it’s Jyn his thoughts turn to as an escape.

Jyn, the woman who’s vexed him from the start.

Jyn, whose spirit and fight and determination had renewed the spark of hope inside him that had long since died in his endless fight against the Empire.

Jyn, who refuses to back down from a challenge and wastes no time in standing up for what she believes.

Jyn, who encompasses an unfailing instinct to follow the right path, even if it means backing him into a corner and telling him off when she thinks he’s made a terrible decision.

Despite his pain, his lips lift into a half smile.

The moment quickly passes as Cassian remembers their confrontation after Eadu. He’d accused her of ignorance and naivety in the face of making difficult decisions when under someone else’s command. He cringes at the memory of words he’d spat at her in anger… and shame.

_“What do you know? We do not have the luxury of deciding when and where we want to care about something. Suddenly the rebellion is real for you. Some of us live it. I’ve been in this fight since I was 6 years old. You’re not the only one who lost everything. Some of us just decided to do something about it.”_

Over their brief time together, he’d come to realize that their own personal histories (what little he knows of hers, that is) provided more of a common ground than he’d originally thought. They’d both lost everything quite young, and while he had found the Rebellion and lived his life in its name, Jyn had lived and fought under Saw Gerrera’s own unique form of rebellion. Life had been cruel and harsh to both of them, taking more than it gave in return.

In Jyn, although it had taken until now for him to recognize it, his heart had found a familiar spirit. Broken and damaged, but still holding on for _something,_ for some purpose amidst the chaos. As a spy, forming meaningful relationships with _anyone_ is an impossibility, but the moment he’d met Jyn, he’d been drawn to her for reasons he couldn’t begin to explain.

Jyn had taught him to follow his baser instincts, those generally not needed as a spy, and for whatever reason, they’d always lead back to her. And in turn, he likes to think, he’s given her a place to call home.

Cassian’s breath comes out in short pants as he carefully lowers himself down the ladder, one rung at a time. His body screams at him to rest, to just let go, but he can’t. _He won’t._

Jyn is out there, and he won’t rest again until he’s at her side.

Once Cassian’s feet settle on solid ground, he leans into the ladder for a moment to catch his breath, as difficult and painful as it is. He needs the moment to reset before limping his broken body onward. In the dim light, he searches for a door, and finally finds one under door Krennic had shot at them earlier.

Hope sparks in his chest, and he prays to the Force that it’s the lift he needs. Using the wall around the perimeter for support, Cassian pulls himself toward the door and slams his hand on the button to open it.

It’s not the turbolift, much to his frustration, but as he stumbles past the doorway, he finds it several paces down the blissfully empty corridor. He stumbles toward the turbolift and presses the button, waiting anxiously for its arrival. The seconds pass in agonizing lethargy, and adrenaline begins to build in Cassian’s blood, masking his pain.

The lift’s delay in returning to his level suggests that Krennic is already at the top of the tower, and the moment the door opens, Cassian surges inside, smacking the button for the topmost floor. The light flickers inside, sending his heart into an uneven staccato of anxious anticipation, and when it opens on the transmission level to reveal Krennic pointing a blaster at Jyn, he stops breathing.

The words between Jyn and Krennic are lost over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, and putting to use all his years of experience as a spy, Cassian steps out of the turbolift and onto the platform.

Jyn hasn’t noticed him yet, so focused on her enemy in front of her, and Cassian uses it to his advantage as he moves closer and closer to Krennic before leaning against a post and taking out his blaster.

“You, on the other hand, _die_ with the Rebellion!” Krennic’s voice growls at Jyn.

Cassian lifts his right arm, supports it with his left, aims the blaster, and shoots. Krennic falls to the ground with a satisfying thud, and Jyn finally notices him, her eyes wide with surprise. It’s obvious she’d thought him dead.

Breathing hard, he catches her gaze, his blaster still raised in caution. Her mouth curves into something just short of a grin before she lurches forward to the console and pulls the lever to broadcast the Death Star plans to the Rebellion.

When she smiles at him, nothing else matters, and he understands the relief and elation on her face. She’s beautiful, he thinks, the stray thought taking him by surprise.

As she stumbles to his side and grips his arm, his other hand holds the gun steady at Krennic, until she follows his gaze and moves to give the man a final death blow. Cassian stops her short and pulls her to his side, and she follows willingly, fitting there in the crook of his elbow like she belongs there.

_Perhaps she does._

A voice deep inside Cassian warns him time is not on their side and there will be no time to find out the answer to his thoughts.

Despite his determination to carry his own weight back to the lift, his body curves toward Jyn, and she bears his shattered body without complaint. Her hand covers his draped over her shoulder, and the contact is strangely soothing, grounding him to the present, keeping the panic at bay.

“Do you think,” he asks, “anybody’s listening?”

“I do,” she answers, firmly with conviction. “Someone’s out there.”

They stagger inside the turbolift and send it toward the ground. This time, in the flickering darkness, he finds he can’t tear his gaze away from Jyn’s. She tethers him to the moment, their final moment of solace, and in her eyes, he finds everything he’s ever wanted.

_Everything he’s ever needed._

Normally such a realization would make him run fast and furious in the opposite direction, but right now, there’s no time for that. If he’s going to face his end, his final sacrifice for the Rebellion, he’s going to do it with Jyn at his side.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs in the dark, breaking the spell between them, “until the end.”

 _I could have loved you,_ is what he thinks but doesn’t say.

He suspects she knows, however, when she pulls him tighter and gently kisses the corner of his mouth. Surprised, he turns to face her, and their lips brush against each other, gentle and hesitant at first, but settling into something needy and comforting after a moment. Her hands move up to cup his face, and his hand, the one not holding onto the wall of the lift, cups the back of her head. The utter rightness of it settles deep in his being.  

Whatever end awaits them outside the tower, he’ll carry her with him until he shatters into oblivion.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at goingtothetardis.tumblr.com! (I'm also at pillowfort under the same username.)


End file.
